


History Class

by NackNack



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, generic highschool au, zeborah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NackNack/pseuds/NackNack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave has one class with John - History, and although the football player can't spend much time with his secret crush, he takes advantage of the one class he gets to share with John. Sort of crappy one shot for Zeborah's Generic Highschool AU on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	History Class

It was Thursday afternoon and the day seemed like it had been stretching on forever. Damn fucking teachers had been assigning shit left and right and it was starting to get on Dave’s nerves. It wasn’t bad enough that the Homecoming game was in two weeks, but the staff had apparently come to a unanimous decision that the first few weeks of reviewing were over and the real schooling began now.

It was with a collective groan that the class obeyed the command to open to page 346 of their history books. The time had come for learning.

Or sleeping in the case of a certain slacking football player. Taking a deep breath, Dave slid forward on his desk, arms crossed and chin resting on his forearms. Some poor soul was already reading aloud a paragraph about the French-Indian War. How many times had they gone over this? It seemed as if every history class the school district offered started with the founding of America and ended after World War II. The only thing that changed from year to year was the pacing and the analyzing the class was asked to do.

But Dave had a solid 2.1 GPA left over from last year, and since the football team had to have at least a C average, he decided it was time to relax. There was no use in overachieving, only in meeting the very lowest of expectations. Why put forth the extra effort if there was no reward for it? Only idiots and nerds did that.

As if the thought of him had made it happen, John Egbert’s voice rang out, continuing the passage that the previous student had started. Dave shifted, resting his eyes on John, who sat directly to his right. The poor guy showed signs of healing bruises and of suppressed memories of pain. But aside from that, he was a bubbly, tiny little kid who seemed to thrive on school and everything that had to do with it. It was weird to see him without his bodyguard at his side, but History wasn’t something Jake shared with John. No, for once, this was Dave’s time with him.

The assigned readers were going down Dave’s row, and when John finished his portion, he glanced over sheepishly at Dave, probably curious if he would bother to continue reading or not. But Dave was a member of the football team, a cliché class A douche when he wanted to be, and so he refused to move a muscle, but instead kept his head resting over his book, on his arms.

“Dave,” the teacher repeated. It was just a few weeks in and already she was growing tired of his apathy in class. “Will you please continue from where John left off?” The words were sugar-coated, obviously trying to hide her annoyance.

When the blonde refused to respond, however, she merely sighed and moved on to the next row. It was common knowledge that if a football player refused to do as instructed, there was little use in attempting to force it out of them; no matter the outcome, the poor staff member would find themselves without support from the football coach, and the student in question would always evade disciplinary action. 

They had nothing to fear. They ruled this school. Dave was high school royalty, and everyone knew it.

And high school royalty didn’t stay awake during classes.

It was the sound of the bell that woke him up, followed by the shuffling of papers as his classmates attempted to gather their belongings in preparation for the six minute passing period before them. Dave yawned and stretched before shoving his book into his messenger bag and standing, preparing himself to trek down the stairs to gym.

Stepping out of the room, his eyes landed on John, who was lounging against some lockers across the hall, obviously waiting to meet up with Jake. The Strider couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It was like the little boy was nothing without his big, strong bodyguard at his side.

Yet this was a rare occurrence, and Dave could only imagine the discussion John and Jake would have to have if English found his boy-toy talking to Dave when he arrived.

Suppressing a small smirk, Dave quickly crossed the hallway, striding straight towards John. The smaller boy took only a split second to hone in on the football player’s approach. Glancing around him, he seemed to look for an escape before sinking against the locker, accepting his fate.

“Hey, John, is it?” Dave asked, closing in on him. They were about a foot apart, and John looked terrified. “We have history together.”

“U-uh…yeah…” He sounded unsure, and who could blame him? Dave was at least a foot taller than him, and John’s back was to the lockers. There was nowhere to go! But dammit, the last thing Dave wanted was for John to be scared of him, no matter the circumstance.

Sighing, Dave attempted to switch tactics. Maybe he’d calm down if he realized that the football player didn’t want to do anything other than talk. But _shit_ , it seemed like absolutely everything he did put John more and more on edge. Maybe it was because the little kid couldn’t read his expression because of the sunglasses. Or maybe he really thought Dave was going to beat the shit out of him.

“Hey. What was the homework in history? I fell asleep during her never ending bullshit speech…” Dave turned to look at something down the hallway, as if someone important had just called his name. It seemed to work, because John let out a sigh of relief as soon as Strider finished his question.

Shifting his weight a little, John fixed his eyes on the Dave’s shoes before responding. “It’s just numbers six through ten on page 348.” With that, he glanced up, risking a glance at Dave’s face. The blond saw it, but allowed the gesture to go unspoken. If he pointed out John’s obvious terror, he’d probably just wind up making the kid wet himself.

Instead, Dave nodded. “You’re not too bad, John,” this was said facing away, again. If he was looking at John, it would be much too awkward and uncool of him to utter something like that. Instead he decided to keep his standard of coldness by looking over his shoulder.

John seemed confused. “I’m…what?” Dave watched out of the corner of his eyes as John’s eyebrows knit together in a small, confused expression. “Then wh-“

But he was cut off. A heavy hand was resting on Dave’s shoulder, squeezing just slightly harder than would be expected. Jake had arrived from his last class, and he regarded Dave with suspicion. “He’s more than not bad, good Mister Strider. John here is an excellent chap! In fact, he’s so top notch that he absolutely has to be at class on time. We’re simply asking for a reprimanding, dilly-dallying around like this.” He glanced down at John, giving him a once-over to make sure his friend hadn’t acquired any new bruises.

Satisfied, he continued. “And so, I think we simply _must_ bid you farewell. I’m ever so sorry for cutting your congenial chat short, but you must understand. Time is flying by and there are places to be!” With that, he rushed forward, slipping a protective arm around John’s shoulders. While the shorter boy struggled to get him off, Jake’s green eyes bore into Dave’s glasses in an obvious expression of protectiveness. It rubbed Dave the wrong way, and he found himself narrowing his eyes in response, regardless of the fact that there was no way that Jake could see him.

“Yeah…go get to your classes then, dorks.” It was a defensive, weak sentence, and Dave knew it, but the last thing he wanted was to have to witness Jake’s obvious advances on John. With an icy glare, he turned on his heel and headed off towards gym. The bell rang for the start of class not thirty seconds later. It was his third tarty, and he knew it. In a fit of uncharacteristic rage-fueled apathy, he spun, changing direction and slamming his way out the front doors of the school. Sure, he’d be in trouble. Sure, he’d probably get a detention or two. But dammit, the last thing he wanted at that moment was to be anywhere under the same damn roof as John and his stupid, buff, overprotective freak of a bodyguard.

With a grunt, Dave headed towards the football field to wait for the start of practice.


End file.
